Fatal Affairs
by Katana0304
Summary: Fate has a way of ensuring that we met certain people at the right times and sometimes we probably shouldn't met them. KLAINE STORY. Please read authors note at the end. EDIT OF "It had to have been Fate I met you". READ AND REVIEW. T to be safe


**Was originally written for my English Assignment. We had to write a modern day Romeo and Juliet. Only difference between the assignment and this version is the names.**

**Originally called "It had to of Been Fate I met you" but I took it down, re-named it and fixed the amount of mistakes. I was appalled at myself. **

**PLEASE READ AUTHORS NOTE AT THE END!**

**Enjoy**

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><p><strong>Fatal Affairs<strong>

(A modern day story of Juliet and his Romeo)

_Fate is just like a game of poker. You never know which hand you'll get dealt or what hand the person next to you will receive. If you did know, there wouldn't be much point to the game now would there? Might as well crown the winner straight away rather than let the losers suffer. That holds no excitement. No, I'd rather not know what hand life is going to deal me. The point of life is to be prepared for the unexpected and to deal with it when it comes because sometimes the unexpected is the most amazing gift life could give. And also, fate led me to you._

A year later and still the words you said, with such conviction, ring crystal clear in my head as I'm on my way to visit you. A year later to this day and I still couldn't forget you. Honestly, I'd tried to move on really but you had this aura about you that seemed to have kept you firmly imprinted in my mind. I have a wife and a daughter, still I'm thinking about you, my lover and my dirty little secret. Every touch, every kiss, hell every argument, forever stamped into my memory.

Paris 1919 and still the need for the aristocratic society to 'show off' was blatantly evident. Small talk, the pointless chatter that seemed to be like oxygen at these events, filled the air. Politics, fashion, whatever was worthy to be mentioned at the time. Evenings like this held no interest to me. I'd join in the chatter, laugh at the bad jokes, have a few drinks and constantly be greeted as, "My Lord Blaine." It was just these events were always boring, nothing interesting ever happened, except of course that one time when one of the service boys tripped over his own feet, sending dinner flying. And especially without my wife by my side I couldn't see the point in even going to the effort to make an appearance.

"Lord Blaine." I knew that voice; closing my eyes I turned to face Mister Duval. Mister Duval was a balding man and a bit on the heavy side, still he was a most respected figure in Paris.

"Mister Duval, how lovely it is to see you again. I trust you are well?" Keeping up appearances, I managed a light casual tone.

"Yes, Yes very good. Now Blaine we-," but his reply was interrupted when a young gentlemen came offering us a glass of champagne. With a smile I took it from him. The boy had a soft, gentle face almost effeminate. His skin was amazingly white, almost porcelain in colour. Blonde curls waved down to meet together where they were tied back by a ribbon. Emerald eyes stared up at me, slightly widened almost like he knew I was staring and was afraid. I couldn't help it though; he had a look about him that made me want to hide him away from all the evil in the world to protect the innocence clearly present in his eyes. With a light dusting of red on his cheeks, the boy walked away.

I watched him leave and it wasn't until after he left that it occurred to me that Mister Duval was still talking. Excusing myself, I decided that now was a good time to leave. Nodding in acknowledgement of the "Good nights" thrown my way, I started on the walk home. All the while I couldn't get the young man out of my head. Every thought I had was about him.

That was it. The night we had met. It was the beginning of a string of sins which lead me to where I stand today. Never did I expect that in the months following that, I would have committed sins so great that not even Lucifer himself would sympathise with me.

A week after running into 'Porcelain' (as I had begun to think of him), fate would see to it that we met again. Merchants were calling over the top of each other, competing for the best prices. I couldn't wait to get home to peace and quiet. With a pounding headache, I turned to leave, bumping into another body.

"Excuse me, Sir," the voice trembled, sounding like a little timid squeak.

Glancing down at the boy, I noticed the blonde hair tied back in a ribbon and the same emerald eyes staring up. There in front of me stood Porcelain. "No, no trouble at all Mr?"

"Hummel, Kurt Hummel," there it was. The boy who had plagued my thoughts as 'Porcelain' now had a name. Kurt Hummel. I wanted to know more about the strange effeminate boy.

"Mr Hummel, I wonder if you would join me for dinner tonight? My wife remains out of town and my thoughts are not the best company."

"Thank you my Lord, but I would hate to impose on your evening."

"No, no, it's no trouble. Say around seven tonight." With that I gave a smile and headed back for home. My thoughts steered towards dinner. I was going to find out more about this boy and hopefully discover why he was so captivating.

Looking back, it probably wasn't the best idea I've had. Inviting someone I only knew the name of around for dinner. Still, I had to know more and tonight was the night. It was also the first night that really led me astray.

Dinner that night went…well. Succulent lamb and fresh potatoes the dinner itself was lovely. The conversation flowed like a symphony, bell-like laughter over low throaty chuckles. It was like a light melody intruding upon the night. That was until the melody became harsh and conversation became awkward.

I can't say whose fault it was, who had brought it up. I think it was me. We'd spent time talking about my wife, so I asked about his. Refusing to meet my eyes and instead gazing at the table, Kurt mumbled that no wife had ever existed.

"I can't believe why not," I whispered, "You are beautiful." The words left my mouth before I could even think about them. "Beautiful." Did I really just call him "beautiful"? Kurt looked at me and in that one look I saw desperation, hope and joy.

"Really? You think I'm beautiful?" He sounded so happy, as if it was the first time he'd ever heard those words uttered about himself.

"Um…sure," I had no idea how to respond. I myself was still dazed that I'd referred to another man as beautiful. Men weren't beautiful, or at least weren't supposed to be.

Before I knew what was happening, Kurt walked around the table to my side. Grasping my face in his soft palms, a few fleeting glance were exchanged. Then, all too suddenly, his lips found mine.

Automatically, my instincts told me to push him away. Men did not kiss each other; it was written clearly in the Bible. I wanted to break away from the hands that slowly found their way into my hair and resting where it met my neck. However, once the initial shock was over, I discovered that I didn't want this to end. The thought of having this porcelain beauty so close was exhilarating.

Kurt was actually the first to break away. The blush was back on his cheeks. Head down, Kurt moved to leave. "Wait," I reached out to grab his arm. Kurt flinched at the contact. I don't know what came over me next. It was like my body had been possessed. I pulled him back down to where I was sitting on the chair and gently I touched my lips back to his. Instantly sparks flew. Kurt kissed me back with a furiousness of a mother bear protecting her cubs. It became hungrier, needier and soon we moved through the night with an intimacy that only we could understand.

So that was it. The night that began what would soon become both the greatest sin and joy I possessed in my life. We'd meet in secret, spending nights at motels. All the while I learnt little things about Kurt. I'd learnt that he loved to stand in the rain; it made him feel as if all his problems were washing away, along with every insecurity he had. The next few months were easily the happiest I'd felt in a long time. I'd finally discovered why Kurt had captivated me; he had had my heart since the moment we'd met. Still, being with another man was a sin against God and nature, so I kept him hidden away from the world, and my wife.

1919 saw Paris infested with the Spanish Influenza. The nation was in a panic that hadn't been seen since the beginning of World War One. Hospitals were full of the sick, the dying and the paranoid. My wife alienated herself from everyone but her friends, claiming that the 'common folk' would be the ones to kill her with the disease. Desperately, she tried to convince me to do the same but I had Kurt. His hold over me had become stronger and as a result our meetings were more frequent. If I was to stay away, I would have to say good-bye to my effeminate angel.

It had been three weeks since I'd seen him. I couldn't sleep at night, I'd spend my free time pacing the streets where he lived. I was worried that Kurt had fallen ill. Every time I opened the paper, I had to pray that I wouldn't see his name. It was maddening. It was another week however, before I received his letter.

When I got the letter, I was shocked. Kurt had spent the last four weeks in hospital with Spanish Influenza and he wasn't likely to recover. In the letter he'd begged me to stay away, stating that I belonged with my wife and never to him but he would continue to love me until he drew his last breath.

I rushed to the hospital. Forget what he wanted, I had to see him, had to tell him…that I…that I…loved him too.

The smell of medicine and sound of crying greeted me, signalling I'd arrived. Running blindly through the hospital, I found him. Looking at him I realised I was too late. He was gone. Bending over his body I whispered, "Goodbye angel, I love you."

I reached my destination. Kneeling in front of the grave I place the single rose I had on the ground. A year later and I still didn't want to accept that our illicit affair had ended. In the past year, my wife had given birth and my life should be complete. Still I felt empty as if something was missing. And something was, him. With a single tear sliding down my cheek, I straightened up and began the journey back home. A last fleeting glance to the grave told me it wasn't just a dream, he had actually existed.

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><p><strong>Okay. This was not the orignial idea I had for English, but my teacher said it wasn't modern enough. My friends loved it and encourage me to write it. The original idea was to set the stroy back in 1349 during the 'Black Plague' and when social standing was more obvious. The Blaine character is still apart of the aristocratic society whilst Kurt is still a slave. In keeping with the Romeo and Juliet theme, the two lovers can not be together in the end. The new story would be called Aristrocratic. It would be more indepth, and probably multi-chaptered, covering more of the affairs with greater character developement. Unfortunately English put a 1000 word limit on the story and mine is 1882, hardly covering what I wished it to.<strong>

**Please, Please let me know if I should write my original idea and if anyone would be interested in reading it. The story would most likely be written in the Glee fandom.**

**~Katana**


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